Oh, I decided to send out a Harper Christmas Newsletter.

You know, keep everybody updated on all things Harper.

You're kidding.

Don't worry, governor. I didn't mention your ongoing battle with the demon Rum.

As this wonderful year draws to an end

I send this note to family and friend

So thankful are we for Blessings Galore

Like Charlie's fiancée, a lady - not a whore

Keep reading!

And young master Jake is growing like a weed

He makes us all proud, not a waste of my seed

Keep going! Keep going!

He tried his darndest in every class and made tenth grade by the skin of his ass

See, I made a drawing of a little elf with his pants down.

What the hell is the matter with you? You're a grown man!

Oh come on, people love this stuff. Read! Read!

And our sweet mother Evelyn had a small operation

Her secret garden needed rejuvenation

Secret garden?

Find a rhyme for vulva. I dare you.

And what about the author of this Christmas poem?

He's healthy and happy in his beautiful home

And while some might argue that he's just a leech

It bothers him not, he lives at the beach

Happy Holidays from the Happy Harpers!

What do you think?

You're sad, pathetic, lonely and blue

If I gave a rat's ass, I'd worry 'bout you